by Adalyn Grace
Though I’ve always thought myself a strong swimmer, wading around in Arida has little comparison to deep-sea diving. While Vataea sports only her fins, the rest of us are fully dressed and armed, and we’re slower for it.
I’ve no idea how far below we are, but the pounding in my ears and skull tell me it’s probably best not to think about it.
Surprisingly, Ferrick is the quickest of us three. Even with the weight of the extra clothing he’s tied around his belt for Vataea, it’s clear he’s slowing his movements in an attempt to keep closer to me. And though I would have thought Bastian to be quicker than he is, he clearly spends more time atop the ocean than within it. He’s struggling as plainly as I am, biceps straining as he forces himself to swim faster.
Though exhaustion’s already setting in, I do the same, trying to use my legs more than my arms. But as a shadow passes and cold water grazes my back, I throw myself against Bastian and make a grab for my new weapon. He grabs my waist in surprise, steadying me, and we both glance up.
Above us swims a fever of giant zapa rays. And if I wasn’t already holding my breath, I would’ve surely lost it at the sight of them.
They move with a grace impossible to replicate, their fins like delicate wings that fan through the water, making their bodies glide. Each one is at least triple my size, massive and beautiful, with bodies outlined in a vibrant blue that sparks as they swim. It makes them look as though they’ve got electricity coursing through them, though in reality they’re one of the sea’s most peaceful creatures.
Ahead of us Vataea waits, worry wrinkling her brows. We need to move faster, but there’s no way Bastian and I are going to be quick enough. At least not as we are.
I grab hold of Bastian’s wrist, yanking him up. His forehead crinkles, head shaking in protest, but there’s no time to argue. I yank on him again, this time until he begrudgingly follows.
No matter how hard I kick, my two feet will never have the strength of a fin. If we’re going to get through this, we’re going to need to borrow some.
The zapa rays have no fear as I approach. Rather, some of them swim a little closer, tilting and circling us curiously. I press my hands gently against one’s back, flattening my fingers against its rubbery skin.
Still, it doesn’t pull away, fearless.
When Bastian catches on to what I’m doing, his eyes light with surprise. He slows to move to the one behind me, lowering himself down upon the ray until he can get a gentle grip on it. Slick as their bodies are, it takes a moment to find a way to safely latch on.
I sink myself onto my ray, smoothing my fingers against its skin.
Still below us, Vataea’s lips curl into a grin. She pushes Ferrick up, goading him to join us before she swims ahead of the zapa rays. She spins to face them, eyes a molten gold as she parts her lips.
The song she sings this time is a soft one, light and gentle. The zapa rays swish their fins slowly in response to it. She motions to the right, moving slowly at first, and they follow her.
They may not be the fastest beast in the sea, but as we’re weighed down by too much clothing and heavy weapons, they’re faster than we could ever be. And by Cato’s blade, they’re glorious.
All the years stuck in Arida, and this is what I’ve been missing.
It doesn’t feel like we’re swimming; we’re flying. Gliding through the water as if it were light as air. Every yard we travel brings a new wave of colors. The sense of new creatures somewhere nearby. A rush of adventure that I cling to.
Vataea leads the fever, navigating the waters with a finesse I can’t help but envy. As large as these creatures are, and traveling at twice the speed I could manage, we cover the distance swiftly. It’s clear we’re approaching Zudoh when the water darkens to murky navy, and bundles of seaweed smack me in the face and attempt to wind around my wrists and ankles. We hit what looks like a wall of dead fish—some of them float to the top while others are still sunken in the water, their skin peeling from their bodies. Only then does Vataea stop singing. The zapa rays halt, all of them twisting away like a synchronized dance. I push myself off the ray’s back and stroke a hand along its smooth underside as a silent thank-you. One of its massive fins grazes my cheek, and then they’re gone, heading east toward Suntosu.
My eyes burn in this filthy water, and I can barely make out the others. I feel one of their hands close around mine, large and calloused—Bastian.
Lead sinks into my stomach, making my body colder and the need for breath sharper. I clench Bastian’s hand tightly, knowing that if I’m already feeling the need to breathe, it must be even stronger for him.
Our time’s nearly up.
Bastian pushes me ahead, freeing our hands. It’s impossible to tell how close we are; dread constricts my throat and makes each movement frantic. Desperate.
I swim as quickly as I can, kicking until my legs sear from pain. Pushing my arms so hard until they act purely on instinct, entirely numb. My throat burns as my senses dull, the water darkening in my periphery. Algae licks my heels and seaweed constricts my limbs, fighting to slow them.
I’ve no idea if Bastian’s still behind me, or where Ferrick and Vataea are, but I don’t stop. I push, because now my lungs are screaming for air as I fight to surface. But just as sand scrapes my knees and the end is in sight, Vataea grabs my hand. She drags me back, her mouth agape and eyes wide with panic.
Ferrick’s behind her, his own eyes fluttering as his breath wanes. Bastian takes hold of my hand and tries to free it from Vataea, but she shakes her head fiercely and points above us to the shore.
My heart plunges when understanding dawns—there’s no break in the barrier. They’ve attached it to their shore; something we didn’t expect, as it means Zudians must also suffer from this curse. They must not even be able to access their own sea.
If we surface now, even right at the shore, we’ll be trapped in a curse.
Vataea whips her head around, searching with terrified golden eyes. Shakily she lifts her hands and parts her lips with what at first sounds like a song, but quickly darkens into something sharp and vicious. She’s chanting by the time a thin bead of water swirls within her palm as she tries to call upon the sea. But it doesn’t listen.
When Ferrick’s lips part, air bubbling out of his mouth, dread sinks its teeth into me and rips all hope. My throat tightens.
Tightens.
Tightens.
The ocean tried to claim me once already and I escaped it. This time, I won’t be as lucky. Specks of darkness sink into my vision as the water floods up my nose and down my throat. I open my mouth on instinct, gagging on it.
The last thing I see is the horror on Vataea’s face and the water swirling in her hands. Her chanting gets louder, until it’s like she’s yelling at the sea itself, but the water swallows and garbles the sound as I try to focus on it.
There’s water in my eyes. My nose. My throat and lungs.
But then it’s just … gone.
I choke on the air that surrounds me, desperate for it, and I’m not the only one. Gagging up water, I squint my eyes open to see Ferrick and Bastian doing the same. They clutch their chests and raw throats, squinting and blinking bloodshot eyes.
I want to settle myself upon the sand to dry my freezing body, but we’re still in the water, a bubble of air formed around us. I shake the seaweed tangled in my hair and around my arms away as Vataea pushes us forward, chanting dagger-sharp words under her breath.
Blood flows freely from her nose, but she doesn’t stop pushing until the sand is beneath us and we break through the surface, protected by the strange pocket of the ocean she’s formed around us.
We fall to the sand as the barrier snaps. I hit knees-first and a sharp jolt spirals up my spine. I bite back a yelp, sinking my fists into the sand. Vataea’s across from me, her fin gone in favor of legs. Ferrick shakily untangles her sopping tunic from his belt and tosses it her way.
Ferrick pants prayers under his breath while Bast
ian dry heaves into the sand.
“I thought your sea magic was rusty,” the pirate grits out between ragged breaths, his body shaking.
“It is.” Vataea’s palms are shaky as she wipes the drying blood from her nose and examines it with a grimace.
I feel a rush of gratitude toward Vataea. It would have been so much easier for her to leave us in the water. Without her help, we’d certainly be dead. But after the fight with the Lusca, something between the four of us changed. I trust them, and I get the sense that they’re all starting to trust one another, too.
It’s like we’re becoming a real crew.
“When we get to Arida,” I tell her as I fall to my back, sucking in air like I might never have it again, “I’m throwing a banquet in your honor. You can have all the gold and all the food you want. Thank you.”
Grunts of agreement echo my words, and I sneak a glance at Vataea, who dips her face toward the gray sky and exhales a sigh of relief. The tiniest hint of a genuine smile plays at her lips.
Once again, I can’t help but be thankful she’s on our side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
While Ikae’s streets are stained glass and Kerost is made from cracking cement and cobblestone, Zudoh greets us with towering gray peaks and limestone caverns that stretch through the beach and deep into the land. Thankfully this area appears to have been long deserted, so no one’s around to see our arrival. There’s not even a bird in the sky to crow a greeting.
I hug my arms tightly around myself as we travel along the shore, having paused long enough to catch our breath. Frosty air bites my skin, still damp from soaked clothes and wet hair, and I shiver. Several yards ahead looms a giant building with reflective glass that winks at me in the sunlight that’s slowly beginning to peek through the thinning gray fog. I squint back at my reflection. The building is bigger than any I’ve seen before—sleek and white, with strange panels atop the roof.
It must have been beautiful once, but now the white beams are covered by a light gray film and scorch marks. Several of the windows are broken, revealing nothing but empty darkness within. On the roof, nearly all the panels sit twisted and ready to fall, while the charred front door tilts on frosted hinges.
“What is that place?” I ask, breath fogging in the air. By Cato’s blood, it’s cold as late winter here.
Bastian stares first at the building, then at the endless sand surrounding us. His brows sink, creasing his forehead in a series of thick, worried lines.
“It was a workshop,” he says, though his voice is barely a whisper, cracking at the edges. “We made medicine and protective charms, and engineered new materials, like the wood of our trees—” He moves as if to point, but his words cut off swiftly. There are hardly any trees, and the ones that exist are half-charred.
Bastian jerks his head to the other side, toward shipless docks. Planks of wood that haven’t been burned away are rotted through, many of them crumpling into the water. With each passing breeze, the wood groans with despair that Bastian echoes.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
Zudoh’s sand is not white or tan, but gray. The closer it gets to the water, the darker it becomes. The water has formed a thick tar-like ring near the low tide as rotten algae clings to the shoreline. It’s green and crusty like dried blood, and I grimace knowing that’s what we swam through, and what clings to my curls and my clothes, slicking them down.
I try not to look at the pile of bones scattered on the ground, too large to belong to any animal I can imagine. There’s no trace of skin or muscles; the bones have long since been cleaned by maggots and scavengers. Small, frayed pieces of rope and chips of wood dot the bones.
“What did it look like before?” I ask, keeping my voice low. It’s quiet here, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe.
“It was beautiful,” he says. “Bright white sand. As bustling as Ikae. The people were happy. There were trees everywhere, even here on the sand.”
I squint at the gray ground and realize it’s not just sand we’re stepping on. It’s ash.
This part of Zudoh’s been burned to a crisp.
Bastian crouches upon the sand. He scoops up a handful, examines it, makes a fist around it. I don’t follow him, because I understand what he’s feeling. He was born here, and though he’s been gone for many years, Zudoh’s still his home. If something happened to Arida while I was gone, I’d never forgive myself.
Even the ocean is silent, nothing more than a whisper licking my ear. For once, it doesn’t put me at ease. It chills my bones and raises the hairs along the back of my neck, plaguing me with paranoia.
Where are the people? The animals? The life?
“There were hardly any fish left alive in the water,” Vataea says. I shiver, remember the feeling of slimy scales and decaying fish we swam through. “That’s probably why the Lusca attacked. The legends always said it liked to roam the cold waters near Zudoh, but if there’s no fish for it to eat here…”
“Then it has to start looking elsewhere.” Bastian sighs. “There’s no way my people can live this way forever. We have to fix this.”
“And we will,” I say, not needing to touch the earth to know its struggles. “You said there were trees here, before?”
“Hundreds of them,” Bastian says. “They’ve all just … burned away.”
“Not all of them.” Ferrick steps forward and points toward the south side of the island. I follow his focus, blinking a few times to ensure I’m not seeing things. About a mile ahead, a thicket of startling white birch trees stretches across the island like a wall.
“It’s dangerous that way,” Vataea says. “I sense more Zudian curses.”
“Then that’s our way to Kaven.” Bastian straightens, determination hardening his stare. “We should get going.”
Something within those woods causes the magic within me to stir, curious. It urges me forward, lulling me toward the trees. But Vataea doesn’t move. She turns her stony face toward craggy limestone mountains across from us instead, where a sea-slick cavern is formed at the edge of the beach.
She nods her head to the side, silently willing me to follow her as she starts toward it. Her eyes are sharp as daggers as she scans the space, but it’s nothing more than a few boulders nestled at the edge of a mountain.
I glance behind me. Though the sun has finally made an appearance, it’s already late afternoon. We’ve no idea where Kaven is or how long the journey through Zudoh will take us, and the last thing we need is to have to travel through unfamiliar territory at night. Especially when we’re wet, freezing, and with a pirate who gets sicker the longer he’s away from his ship.
“We should keep going.” Gently, I take Vataea’s arm.
She hesitates for only a moment, still glaring at the cave, but eventually relents. The moment we go to turn and walk away, a strange squawking sound pierces the air behind us. I reel, weapon in hand, but there’s nothing but gravel and giant stones looking back at us.
“Is someone here?” I ask, trying to peek behind the stones and into the mountain.
After the Barracuda Lounge, nothing would surprise me anymore.
Zudoh answers with unsettling silence, as though holding its breath and waiting for us to leave. The discomfort wraps around me, flooding my arms with goose bumps.
When the sound doesn’t come again, I hesitantly turn back to start toward the woods, certain it must be nothing more than a strange bird. But I keep my dagger ready all the same.
When we take a step away from the area, the squawk sounds again. Only, it’s not actually a squawk, but strange, garbled words.
“Don’t go in there!” someone manages, though the words are immediately muffled once more.
“Shut up, you birdbrain!” The voice behind the snarl is decidedly feminine.
The voices draw my attention to the corner of the cavern, where thin pillars of jagged limestone form the back wall. Tucked in the far corner behind them, almost unnoticeable betwee
n a formation of boulders and the stalagmites, a young boy’s face peeks out from around the stone. He’s there for only a second before a pale hand yanks his head down.
“I’ve already seen you,” I say, though I’m met by only silence once more.
Beside me, Vataea rolls her eyes. She wastes no time closing the space between us and the kids, crawling over damp stones and splaying across them on her stomach to peer between the stalagmites.
“Where is your village?” she demands.
Now discovered, the girl hiding behind the boulders rises to her feet to glare at Vataea face-to-face. Though young, likely around thirteen or so, her pale, freckled face is hardened and her eyes vicious.
“Why do you want to know?” Her words are spitfire, sharp and unforgiving. “So you can burn it down?”
Vataea’s face contorts as she twists herself off the rocks. Somehow, she manages to look elegant while doing so. “Fire’s not exactly my preferred method of destroying villages. But if you’d like to hear a song…”
The girl’s hands are balled into shaking fists at her sides. Beside her, an even smaller boy rises to his feet. His hair is so light that it’s nearly white, and it’s beautiful against his olive skin. He hunches his shoulders a bit as he eyes the girl beside him, hesitating before he speaks.
“I don’t think they’re here to hurt us, Raya…”
The girl whips her head and her lips curl back into a sneer, but the boy doesn’t back down.
“There’s only four of them,” he presses. “If they wanted to hurt us, they’d have brought a fleet. And they’re definitely not Kaven’s.”
Raya’s lips pinch together as if to weigh the truth of his statement. Though it does little to placate her, her fists relax and the hostility in her voice eases. Her eyes flicker from Vataea, then to me, assessing.
“Who are you,” she asks, “and why are you here?”